


The Sound of His Laughter

by VanillaMostly



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Headcanon, Missing Scene, POV Minor Character, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1583888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaMostly/pseuds/VanillaMostly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarella's dream comes true. [Some AFFC/ADWD spoilers]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of His Laughter

As soon as Father left Uncle Doran's chamber, Sarella pounced. If Father was at all surprised to see her jump out from behind the pillar, he didn't show it.

"Oh, Father, please. Let me. You know I'm perfect for the job. You know-"

"Sarella," said his father, fixing her with one of his looks. "Have you even apologized for eavesdropping on your uncle and me?"

Sarella looked down at her feet, trying to muster the amount of guilt that propriety called for. When she looked up, she saw Father shaking his head in a way that betrayed more amusement than anger. She gave up all pretense and moved forward to clutch her father's arm, giving him her best look of pleading eyes.

"I'm sorry, Father," she said, making her voice go sugary sweet, the way she'd seen Tyene do. She wasn't fooling anyone, if her father's snort was any indication. "I promise, I won't eavesdrop again..."

"There goes another lie," chortled Father. He appraised Sarella thoughtfully. She tried to stand as tall as possible; she _was_ rather tall for their family, though nothing compared to Obara, of course. "How old are you, child?"

"I'm not a child, Father, I'll be eighteen in two moons."

"Not a child, then," he said, but Sarella could tell he was only humoring her. "Come. It's a nice night for a walk."

He offered her his arm and Sarella took it most eagerly.

These were Uncle Doran's private gardens, which were always empty, unattended for so long that the bushes had gone wild and weeds had outnumbered grass. In the past, before his gout got the worst of him, and when Aunt Mellario had still been here, the gardens had seen livelier days. Now not even servants dared to trespass this area of the palace; Uncle Doran liked his quiet too much, and seemed to soak up loneliness like it was comfort. Only Hotah was permitted at his side, following along everywhere Uncle went. Sarella had yet to ask (or investigate, as was more her nature) whether Hotah also followed his prince to the chamber pot.

In the ghostly gardens, Father could speak freely. Still, he kept up idle chatter, asking Sarella after her mother, how Sarella's skills with the bow were going, and her thoughts on the books he had sent her. It was all Sarella could do not to bite her tongue through the flesh.

Finally, she could not stand it any longer. " _Father._ " She did not care that she sounded like a most petulant, whining child, but this was _torture._

Father chuckled softly. "There's not much for me to say, I imagine, since you have heard everything."

"Not everything," admitted Sarella. She frowned, recalling the fragments of the conversation she _had_ caught. "Who is Ser Darry?"

Father looked at her sharply. "That isn't your business to know." He must have sensed her hurt, because he patted her hand, and said in a gentler tone, "It's not that I don't trust you, sweetling, it's that these matters are too important. They make the difference in life or death," he said with uncharacteristic grimness. "I'm afraid they must remain between your uncle and me."

"Until the time is right?"

"So you heard that part, too." Father's mouth twitched. "Yes... until it's time. Whenever that will be."

Sarella was sure she did not imagine the slight bitterness in his voice. She decided it wise to change the subject, to what she found to be a far more interesting topic, anyway. "You said you were writing to your former maester at the Citadel. Am I allowed to know about that?"

Father smiled, clearly seeing right through her. "I suppose it won't hurt for you to know that part, no."

"Then may I assume I'm allowed to give my opinion on the matter?" she asked. She was rather impressed at herself that she sounded level-headed, neutral.

"Opinion?" Father looked like he was having as much difficulty suppressing a laugh as she was suppressing her excitement. "Why not? Pray tell."

"Well, from what I could understand..." said Sarella slowly, carefully, "you and Uncle need someone in Oldtown. For your plans - very mysterious plans, but secrecy of which I will respect, most solemnly, and never mention to anyone else-" Father just smirked. "You have an old friend at the Citadel, your former teacher, the Maid-"

"The _Mage_ ," corrected her father, throwing his head back and laughing. "I must say I like your nickname better."

"It was hard to hear," said Sarella defensively, pretending to look offended. In reality, she was more than pleased her father was laughing. That meant the signs bode well. "The _Mage_ , then, he could be your eyes and ears, but even if you were his beloved pupil, Father, this maester has no reason to be loyal to us, to _Dorne._ We can't trust him completely, can we? Not like we can trust-"

"-one of us?" Father ruffled her unruly hair, which was too curly and too wiry, she'd always thought so. "You, for example?"

"You have the... gist of it."

Father laughed again. Sarella loved his laugh, it was carefree and bold, strong as he was. "Sarella, surely you remember that the Citadel does not accept women."

Sarella raised her chin. "Women aren't supposed to captain a ship, either, but my mother got around that."

"Defying expectations isn't quite the same as defying the law _._ "

"So I shouldn't try something because the _consequences_ are too frightening?" Sarella crossed her arms. Arianne called her stubborn and nosy and annoying, but Sarella didn't mind. Those were perfectly admirable qualities, if they got her what she wanted. "That doesn't sound like what the Red Viper would say."

Father just looked at her. "You really want to do this?"

" _Yes._ " She had dreamed of going to the Citadel, ever since as a little girl, she had come across Father's chain. What she had originally been snooping for, she had already forgotten, but she would never forget the sight of those links, glinting in the sunlight, the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. More beautiful than Nym's jewelled daggers, even. When Father had found her, he wasn't angry. He'd only laughed, sat her on his lap, and patiently answered her endless questions.

"You have to be serious. If you're going, just to prove a point..."

"I won't," promised Sarella. "I won't put our family at risk, Father. I would _never_."

"It's not just our family. It'd be your life at risk as well." He placed a hand on her shoulder, staring intently into her eyes. "The Citadel may be full of senile old men, with too much of an ego to care about anything other than themselves... but there will also be sharp men, experienced men, much wiser than you, no matter how clever you are. Young novices too, who wouldn't have seen women for months and years except whores they pick up occasionally, if whores would have them. Do you understand what kind of place you will be going into, Sarella?"

"A lair of beasts," answered Sarella. "Oh Father, I know it's going to be dangerous, and I'm much aware of what they could do to me if they find out. But they _won't_ find out. I will be careful, and I will be prepared." Sarella grinned. "Men may be beasts, but I grew up with snakes."

"Don't be overconfident, Sarella. Arrogance-"

"-is most uncomely, yes." She tugged at his arm. "Let me go, Father. I won't be arrogant, I'll be most humble. I'll be most discreet."

Father watched her for a while, his expression unreadable. At long last, she caught the hint of a smile at his lips. "What am I to do with you?" He heaved a long-suffering sigh.

"You'll let me do it?" She threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you! Father, you won't regret it!"

"I hope not," he said. He patted her on the small of her back. "Sarella, I'm trusting you," he said quietly.

She tightened her embrace, then stepped back. As she looked at her father, she noticed that the muscles in his jaw and neck were tense, and his hand that wasn't on her arm was gripped into a fist, so forcefully it shook. Suddenly, the wrinkles around her father's eyes and the grey in his hair were all too vivid under the moon.

_He is afraid. He fears losing me, like he lost Aunt Elia_ _and the little cousins I never knew._

Sarella found that she could not speak. She could only nod, looking into his dark eyes, the eyes that everyone said she and her sisters had inherited, but she always thought wasn't true. Her father's eyes were special. Only he had them.

Her father was not the Red Viper for nothing. He cupped her cheek with his hand and said, lightly and teasing, "A good thing you already look like a boy."

Sarella made a rude gesture common in the Islands, and Father laughed.

She did love the sound of his laughter. She loved it so much her heart hurt.

"Father," she said, just as lightly, "I think I will tell Ellaria how you lost to me at cyvasse today..."

The two of them argued and mocked each other well into the night. But Sarella never let go of her father's arm, not once.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've always thought that (assuming Alleras = Sarella) she is in the Citadel for reasons other than just for the fun of it. With Oberyn's connections to the Citadel... well, I don't believe in coincidences. ;) Obviously this fic might be AU as soon as the next book comes out lol.


End file.
